


Midday sky

by well_of_sapphire_fears



Series: The Dictionary of Me [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bang Chan-centric, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, dealing with Woojin's departure, thank you woojin, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 04:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/well_of_sapphire_fears/pseuds/well_of_sapphire_fears
Summary: For once, the pain and tears have a reason to be there, but this realisation doesn't make anything better. All it does is make the black hole in his chest feel all the more real as he lies on the floor of their kitchen at 3 am and watches his world tilting on its' axis and collapsing in on itself and thinks "this is what dying must feel like".Or: Woojin leaves. Chan wonders how he is supposed to go on without him.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Kim Woojin
Series: The Dictionary of Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500344
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Midday sky

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. If you find any of the tags triggering, please don't read this. Don't do this to yourself if you don't feel you can do it.
> 
> This is not a story with a happy ending.

It's a bit after two by the time Chan leaves the JYPE building and heads home. Quite early in his standards, but he has spent the last two nights at the company already and he knows there'll be hell to pay if the others wake up in the morning and discover him not there. Or maybe not really, because they wouldn't really yell at their hyung and now there's no one-

Chan gulps. His fingers are white from how hard his gripping his phone and he can hear the quiet crack of the plastic cover as he reaches into his pocket for his earphones.

They've been busy lately, probably the busiest they've ever been since the news broke out earlier this week. The comeback had been postponed but even without it, there's so much to do, so many songs to rearrange, parts to redistribute and dances to change.

At least, the staff is aware of the situation and they leave the group alone more often than not. Chan isn’t sure if it’s consideration, pity or simple awkwardness but he’s thankful he’s been spared from petty office politics for at least some time, because he’s busy enough without it.

Stray Kids knew before the public found out, of course, but it didn't make anything better. Nothing really can, not where there's a glaring black hole in the middle of their songs, their choreographies, them-

He puts on some fast-paced EDM song from his playlist and pretends he's walking to its' fast beat rather than to the beating of his own heart. It's too fast, way too fast to be healthy, because it's anxiety bordering on a full blown panic attack but he ignores it because if he lets himself linger on it for just a moment, he'll fall apart in the middle of the street.

He can’t risk that. He's an idol, dammit. Of a group that recently already gained attention in the worst possible way because of a member-

NO!

He stops just at the right moment, because a black car whizzes past him, so close he could touch it. A step more and he’d have walked right in front of it. Chan shakes his head and continues on.

No.

He turns up the volume of the song even more.

Chan tries to breathe in through his clenched teeth and it doesn't really work, but at least he manages to stop his train of thought from going into dangerous territories. He cannot think about this, cannot let himself, because he has to be strong for his group, for their fans. He has to finish reassigning the parts (can Seungmin really take Get Cool, will he manage or would it be putting too much on his shoulders?), figure out the formations (what about Felix's flip in Victory Song?). He has to protect the others from the questions, because of course there will be some, people don't care that they can't talk about it, even if it were their place to do so, which it isn't. He has to- He has to-

He _can't_ grieve. There's no time to.

His quick pace could almost be counted as a jog and it’s kind of fitting – he’s been running ever since he found out, not stopping for even a second. He’s just delaying the inevitable, because he knows himself. He’s spent the last few days balancing on the edge of a very sharp blade, ignoring his own limits and drowning himself in work.

It’s a very simple rule – all you have to do is keep yourself busy enough, then you won't find the energy to think about how you feel. Easy.

They say the idol industry is an industry of dreams. You can fulfil your dreams there and Chan will be damned if he doesn’t try to do so now. He’ll fight the exhaustion and the feelings, and he’ll think away his breaking point. He just has to pretend it doesn’t exist and you cannot reach something that's not there, right?

He will not break. He won’t let himself, because he doesn’t deserve that luxury.

He reaches their front door and unlocks it with only little difficulty due to his trembling hands. He almost thinks he can do it. He’ll just walk to his bed and fall into a dreamless sleep. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up, take a shower and get dressed on autopilot and then skip breakfast and head to the company. It’s a routine by now, a new one but one he already knows by heart.

But he makes a mistake. He’s walking through the kitchen, his steps slow when he gets distracted by a flash of light to his left and he foolishly looks in that direction.

There's a knife on the table, its' silver blade glinting in the moonlight.

Chan freezes for a full second and then stumbles back, away, _away_, because the temptation feels almost tangible, an itch under his skin he only ever learnt to scratch in one particular way. And he knows, logically, that it wasn't a good coping mechanism, the white barely visible lines on his inner tights reminding him it was something that would destroy him in the long run, but it doesn't change the fact he knows it _worked_.

It was bad, awful and wrong in so many ways, but Chan can still remember the relief it always brought him and it makes everything so much worse. He won't give in, he _won't_, but it feels like the easiest solution is just there in the corner of his eye, torturing him, driving him to madness.

His back hits the kitchen counter and he slides down, not even feeling the handles digging into his flesh. His face is wet so it must mean he’s crying, but it doesn’t really register. He’s hyper focused on the silver and its’ promises so he presses his fingers into his biceps in an attempt to stop his treacherous hands from reaching towards it.

He looks up, trying to escape the sight and his head makes a dull thump as it meets the cabinet’s door. He almost wishes he’d hit it harder, cracked his skull open and bled all over the floor because at least then he’d have an explanation for why he feels like he’s dying but no, he can’t, the others would have to find his cold body in the morning and they can’t lose another memb-

Chan can hear a long, drawn out low sound and as it stutters when he takes in a shallow breath, he realizes it's coming from him. His mouth is open and drool is dripping from his chin along with snot and tears. It's disgusting, but the muscles of his jaw are so tense he cannot close it. He closes his eyes instead, as tightly as he can until stars burst underneath his eyelids.

What is he even doing? He can’t be doing this, not now and not ever. He must calm down before he wakes his members up. For fuck’s sake, he has to breathe in and suck it up, he’ll just make himself throw up at this rate. People leave all the time, it’s normal, he’s an adult and he can deal with it, he just has to stop being so _weak_-

Then, phantom fingers run through his hair and he can hear a familiar low hum shushing him and Chan moves his head so fast he gets a whiplash and stars dance at the corners of his vision when he opens his eyes, because he knows this, knows this voice and those hands and-

The kitchen's empty.

He's alone.

Chan-

Chan's alone.

The simple realisation breaks something in him and he can't help but let out a loud wail. He pushes a fist into his mouth and bites on it in an attempt to muffle the sound but now the dam’s broken and it’s too late to stop it. He can only pray the others are way too exhausted to wake up at the sound of his cries.

He isn’t even sure why he’s sobbing, his feelings a mess. The black hole that used to reside in his chest such a long time ago is back and it’s swallowing everything until all he can do is lie down on their kitchen floor and try to smother his cries and regulate his breathing before he vomits.

There’s no other way, because the person he always went to at times like these is gone.

But Chan cannot blame him. It's not his fault. They tried to find a different solution (what about a hiatus?) but in the end this turned to be the only way. At least maybe like this, he’ll be able to find a happy future.

A future without the failure called Bang Chan.

He curls up and uses his other hand to grip his hair and tug, harshly. He won't do anything else, but he needs something to ground him right now. His other, healthier coping mechanisms are useless and there’s nothing else left but pain now.

In the end, it’s Chan who failed. He failed to protect the 9 he always dreamt about and the guilt makes him nauseous. He swallows the bile that comes up, even though there’s no need to, because what could he throw up if he doesn’t even remember the last time he’s eaten? It's only Chan's fault because _he's_ been the one to promise to keep them together for ever and _he’s_ been the one to foolishly believe that he could.

He’s the biggest fool and it hurts because god only knows how many trusted in him as well to do that. How many he’s failed.

_You could have tried harder_, his treacherous mind whispers to him and Chan presses his hands over his ears even though he knows it won't help. _You are their leader after all. They always call you a genius, so maybe if you haven't been a fake since the beginning you would've been able to find a different, better solution_.

Chan used to believe he was a person of his word, but maybe he’s been lying to himself and to everyone else this whole time. He does manage in small, unimportant matters, but the one time it mattered… He couldn’t. He couldn’t keep his most important promise.

It all mocks him now as he thinks about the past. His own words and actions feel like they’re taunting him, and he's never _not_ meant them, but he never thought they would come back to watch his destruction on the kitchen floor with cruel smiles on their faces.

_He's the only other 97liner in the team and my best friend. He’s really strong and I can always rely on him. My pillar. I don’t show it to our members much, but whenever I’m having a hard time, I go to him. I don't know what I would do without him._

I don't know what I would do without him.

Chan still doesn't know but he _has to_, because there’s no other option anymore. His world has narrowed down to an empty bed, silence where there should be a familiar warm voice and a black hole by his side that mirrors the void inside his chest.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, how much he’d give up to have just a few months, days or hours more together.

It’s done. And the world keeps on turning, will keep on turning indifferent to Chan’s frame wracked by sobs that are ripping him apart and scattering the pieces of his very being all over the kitchen floor.

He manages to stop crying hysterically, but now his whole body just starts twitching uncontrollably. Absentmindedly he thinks that maybe something’s wrong, that maybe he's having a seizure (would he really mind if it was fatal right now? no, he wouldn’t) but he's still painfully aware of everything and he wouldn't during an attack right? Chan doesn't know.

He doesn't know anything anymore.

The elder had been his foundation and now it feels like the floor is quicksand. Chan's being swallowed whole, drowning and suffocating on nothing but air and his tears and the knowledge that he brought this upon himself makes his breath hitch and his fingers to dig into his flesh once again.

Don’t get too attached. Don’t depend on someone too much because it’ll destroy you when they inevitably leave. This used to be his rule before and he only got through the long lonely years of training because he stuck to it religiously, making casual friends everywhere but never letting anyone get too close.

And then 3RACHA and Stray Kids happened and he became too comfortable. He found _someone_. Someone who was never afraid to call him out in the way the dongsaengs are, but at the same time somehow always knew when Chan was close to a breaking point and helped. Someone who scolded him gently and kindly, aware of where his limits lay, who sighed softly and took care of him whenever Chan forgot to eat, who sung ballads to him when he couldn’t sleep. Someone who smiled and laughed and called him _Channie_.

Someone he stupidly believed could save him and be his pillar, his strength in harder times.

Someone who would stay with him. Forever.

It’s only Chan’s fault for believing that his happiness could last and for breaking once he realised it was impossible.

A selfish thought comes to him, of how easy it would be to end this suffering, how he could simply use the silver blade to let it all go and escape to where nothing would ever hurt anymore, but Chan’s never been a quitter so he just curls up into himself and clenches his teeth, trying to stop the tremors of his body.

It’s the only thing he can do, now.

The sun raises around 7:30, illuminating the already busy streets and the still, quiet apartment in the middle of Seoul whose inhabitants are too buried in their grief to be glad to see it. Still, Chan unfurls his body, stands up and heads to take a shower. In ten minutes, he’ll be out of the door on his way to the company and by 9 am all the parts of Stray Kids songs that used to belong to their main vocal will have another member’s name assigned to them.

Woojin’s gone. And Chan has work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Cue an unneeded rant you really don't have to read:
> 
> Hi. How are you? The past few weeks have been… bad, but I hope you're feeling at least a bit better. I sort of am, because I've been able to reread this story and check the grammar, but I'm still getting there, so I hope I didn't miss anything in my haste. I'll probably come back and check it... one day.
> 
> Something I'd like to say - I do not know what happened and I do not know how Chan feels about it. I can only hope he's dealing better than what I described here. This piece had been born out of my own pain and anger at myself, because I do know better than to get attached to idols the way I had with Woojin. I've seen him as my pillar, for a long time now and mentally, I really took it hard when I found out about the news (if you haven't noticed from the story already - it is literally a description of what happened to me). This story is the most personal thing I've ever written and posting it is scary but I think I need to do it. For myself.
> 
> So. I'm getting better because I'm writing instead of falling into old destructive habits. I hope you are too. I guess the reason I'm publishing this is because I sometimes find cathartic reading about other's mental anguish. Sometimes it helps and I hope you'd agree. I really hope I didn't make you feel worse. I'll probably stop writing for some time, but who knows. Maybe I'll be back very soon, because writing helps me with my anxiety.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Stay safe, stay hydrated and remember that no matter how you're feeling, your feelings are valid. All I ask of you is to deal in a healthy way - as tempting as some things can be, they're not worth it in the end. Believe me, I'm speaking from experience.


End file.
